


Safe in your Arms: Project K

by orphan_account



Category: Agent Carter (TV), Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), Captain America - All Media Types, Hawkeye (Comics), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: ABO, Age Play, Alpha Phil Coulson, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - little/caretakers, BAMF Peggy Carter, Baby Steve, Caretaker Peggy Carter, Caretaker Phil Coulson, Chapter Fic, Daddy Coulson, Deaf Clint Barton, F/M, Fluff, Little Clint Barton, M/M, Multi, Non-Sexual Age Play, Peggy Carter - Freeform, Protector Phil Coulson, Softness, Steggy - Freeform, Third time posting this, Tiny Steve, Wet the bed, baby clint, diaper change, feral omega, little Steve, mommy peggy, pre serum steve - Freeform, soft alpha
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-28
Updated: 2020-06-28
Packaged: 2021-03-04 03:55:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,060
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24957211
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Level 8 Clint Barton and Level 3 Steve Rogers had two things in common:- They both were SHIELD agents- They both were little.Technically, they had three things in common. Their respective partner and caretakers worked at SHIELD.Director Peggy Carter took care of Steve Rogers and didn't give two damns if someone looked their way while Steve suckled on her tit to calm down from a panic attack.Agent Phil Coulson took care of Clint Barton, naming himself his caretaker after he'd witness Clint having what could only be described as a meltdown post-mission.With their partners being a higher up SHIELD agent and Director of SHIELD, there should be no repercussions, right?
Relationships: Clint Barton/Phil Coulson, Peggy Carter/Steve Rogers
Comments: 2
Kudos: 37





	Safe in your Arms: Project K

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for the views, guys. I plan to update once a week, but we'll see where that goes given my severe ADHD. 
> 
> The title is scheduled to change when I can think of something better.

eggy smiled where there was a knock on her door, seeing Phil Coulson’s face peek through the opening. His natural scent of ginger and amber greeted her senses. “Come in, Phil. It’s okay. I’m not doing anything too above your level.”  
  
Phil laughed as he opened the door all the way, revealing a tall blonde that he held the hand of. The sweet scent of an Omega greeted her nose, being nearly overwhelmed by the scent of baby powder and vanilla. He ushered Clint inside and given how the tall blonde, with soft blue eyes, and shockingly messy blonde hair was sucking on his thumb and wearing a shirt with a baby dinosaur on it, Peggy could tell today was not a good day for the archer. He was Little today and that was okay, she never blamed him for when he had to retreat inside of himself like this. Given his life on what was just on record alone, she’d say it was a very healthy way to cope with his trauma. And Clint wasn’t alone in that aspect.  
  
In her lap laid Steve Rogers, a scrawny blonde, an Omega that looked like he needed a good meal or maybe five depending on what doctor you asked. His eyes were closed but behind them, Peggy knew laid two of the sharpest pair of soft blue eyes that she’d ever seen. On Big days, Steve was full of himself in both sass and retaliation. He saw the bigger picture of things where others didn’t. Others looked down on him for his scrawny size and ignored the Agent aspect of him. While Steve couldn’t [safely] be on the field, Peggy knew that his strengths lay in strategics. And today, for this little one, it was a Little day too.  
  
“Steven,” Peggy purred in a soft tone, stroking over the blonde’s hair. It caused him to stir ever so slightly, his eyes shifting underneath those purple lids.  
  
She was gentle to pull him off of her tit, not even blinking when Phil flushed a shade of pink when he saw his boss’s nipple or the way that Clint looked hungrily at the milk droplets soaking into her blouse. Ignoring the few droplets of milk escaping her nipple, Peggy gently aroused the sleepy blonde.  
  
Steve was a special case and if people said she claimed favoritism over him versus her other agents, then they were absolutely right. Originally, Steve had joined SHIELD’s science division to be used as a human guinea pig for their test on the super-soldier serum. Something that Howard Stark believed would have improved his health and physic ten times folds. The serum had been a pipe dream and in the works since the 1940s, when SHIELD was otherwise known as the SSR, hoping it would be used to turn the tides of the war. Instead, it fell through the cracks until a few years ago when Howard brought it up during a meeting. They supposed it couldn’t hurt and in this modern-day and age, technology had improved immensely, so they could get around the problems the SSR had faced back in the day.  
  
That was the theory.  
  
Instead, what had happened was that Steve was faced with a near traumatizing amount of searing pain. He’d emerged from the machine still his pale, scrawny self. The worst of his illnesses like his colorblindness, deafness, asthma, seizures, diabetes, crooked spine, and such had semi-healed itself. They still struggled with the seizures and asthma on bad days and stomach ulcers and some food allergies, but Steve, compared to his former self, was hundreds of times better than what he was before.  
  
If it meant a failure on the serum experiment, but an improvement of the Agent’s health, then Peggy would take the failure. It proved that the super-soldier serum had a promising future in improving health and psychics and perhaps one day having an army full of soldiers that never needed to rest as much as the normal man, but there was still much work that needed to be done. Including building a new machine, given how that one went up in sparking flames.  
  
It also proved to Peggy just how special Steve was to her, completely terrified the entire time that he was in that machine, the serum was doing more harm than good. He could scream how he could handle it, but Peggy wished Howard had followed through and cut the damn thing off. Thank God, she was proven wrong. His expertise was used elsewhere, even if some days he struggled with not being on the field.  
  
Steve’s eyes slowly fluttered open to take in Peggy’s face, the brunette giving a small smile meant only for him. As if they were alone, she gently kissed the tip of his nose, tucking her tit back into her shirt.  
  
“Mama?” He whispered the words, still groggy and his breath smelling of her milk. He rubbed at his eyes with the back of his fists and gave a large yawn. “Time to go home?”  
  
“No, darling, not yet. Uncle Phil and Clint stopped by. Why don’t you go show Clint your new Lego set while Uncle Phil and I talk, hm?” The way that Peggy asked, clearly meant that she wasn’t leaving it up to debate. She tipped him onto his sock-clad feet, fixing the soft blue overalls so the latches weren’t tangled.  
  
Steve looked across the document-covered desk to see Phil give him a little, polite wave, and Clint already hopping out of his papa’s lap, always eager to play with Legos. He took the taller blonde’s hand and let himself be pulled to a colorful, padded playmat that was laid out for Steve.  
  
“Bad day?” Phil asked, turning back to Peggy after watching Clint dump the Legos onto the floor. “For Steven, I mean. I haven’t seen him this Little in a while.”  
  
“The same thing could be said about Clint,” Peggy replied in a gentle tone, already starting to close up the files and stack them in a way that made sense to her. “But yes, unfortunately. Steve suffered a series of nightmares last night. I’m surprised I don’t have a black eye this morning with how much he was thrashing around. He woke up every other hour with some form of nightmare. He couldn’t remember them, just muttering about _the bad people._ I had to put him in diapers around the third one, just so we didn’t have to change the sheets.”  
  
In the same tone, she asked, “Is Clint okay? I’ve never seen him sucking on his thumb before. Normally it’s a pacifier or his stuffed toy.”  
  
“Yes, _well…_ ” Phil sighed and ran a hand over his face, dropping the facade to just show how stressed he was. The scent filled her space, suddenly smelling acidic. “You weren’t the only one who had a bad night. As you know, Clint’s history is full of trauma. His -”  
  
“You don’t have to say it. I’m aware of what’s happened.” Not that she wanted to interrupt the man, but sometimes some things were better left unsaid. Her voice was soft, her eyes softer to show the man that she truly understood what the anniversary coming up meant to Clint. “We don’t need to repeat it in fear of Clint overhearing. Those hearing aids - they’re quite strong.”  
  
“Yes, well, as you know _that_ is coming up and I thought perhaps I had a day or two to prepare, but I don’t. And since it's the anniversary of _that_ happening. I was _wondering…”_ _  
_  
As the adult’s talking faded to the background, Steve focused on tipping the Legos’ bucket on their head to spread out the multicolored blocks out for his best friend. When the adults talked and it didn’t concern him, he let their voices fade to the background. He’d rather focus on what was in hand, rather it be the legos or a coloring pencil. It was Big People talk and right now, Steve wasn’t Big. He should have felt embarrassed but he didn’t. It had taken a long time for Peggy to convince him that he was Little and it was okay to be like this.  
  
The first time he’d shown _this_ side of him was when Peggy had spent the night at his apartment. It was odd to have your boss spend the night, but Peggy had made it very clear she wasn’t leaving Steve’s side this entire weekend. It was either she was coming home with him, he came home with her, or they both stayed in the medical bay.  
  
Peggy had pulled him from that metal contraption where his nerves were searing with white-hot pain, everything feeling _too much_ for the blonde. For the first time ever, he was seeing in color. Bright shades of reds and blues and greens reached his eyes, almost overwhelming him. He saw Peggy’s bright hazel eyes, her red lips, her full lashes. He could _hear_ her voice, properly hear her for the first time in full British accent and the chaos around them.  
  
There was only one problem - he was still small. He wasn’t sure what Howard had promised when it came to the serum design, but Peggy was still a good handful of inches taller than him. And that’s not what he expected. He was still sickly, given the wheezing to his breath. He was still aching and right there in her arms, the stress of the failed serum flooding his veins, burning his nerves alive had caused him to have a seizure in his arms.  
  
And as seizures went, this one was one of the worst.  
  
Thankfully Peggy wasn’t an idiot like the rest of New York and didn’t jam a damn wallet in his mouth to prevent him from swallowing his tongue, like that could actually happen.  
  
Instead, he woke up in SHIELD’s medical bay with a Dr. Bruce Banner, a kind man with curls and softer eyes, Erskine, the man who designed the serum, and Howard Stark. He was surprised to even find Peggy beside him, holding his bandaged hand so he wouldn’t pick at the IV line like he was prone to do. The three of them explained to him that the serum had worked in parts, hence him being somewhat healed but not in a whole. There was talk, empty promises to try again in perhaps a year.  
  
That was two years ago. And as far as Steve knew, the serum was put on the back burner for now.  
  
When he was released from the medical bay with instructions to stay home and rest as much as possible, Peggy had insisted on taking Steve home and staying with him to ensure that he would be okay. Even if she didn’t say anything, he knew she blamed herself. Various times, he caught her looking him over in concern.  
  
Steve thought about what awaited him at his apartment. The normal coffee mugs with the hidden sippy cup beside them. The slick-capturing diapers awaiting him in his bathroom closet with the changing mat, powder, and diaper rash cream. There was a soft onesie hidden deep in his dresser. A normal person would keep condoms and lube in their bedside table drawers, but not Steve, no Steve kept pacifiers. Pacifiers especially meant for Omega pups, with small knots built into them to calm them down with their natural instinct to suckle. And of course, of all days, he’d wound up leaving out Bunny and Kitty, his two comfort animals.  
  
Peggy had said nothing when she helped lay Steve out on the bed when she spotted the comfort animals. Thankfully, he got away with dinner by ordering them takeout and insisting he could shower alone. He risked going without a diaper or pull-up, because he had told Peggy she was going to sleep in his bed and not on the couch. It had caused a spiff of an argument between them where Peggy insisted she could take the couch and where Steve said he would take the couch until they both decided just to sleep together.  
  
That’s what Steve intended. He was too tired to argue really, asleep the second his head hit the pillow. Unaware Peggy had dressed in a slip for him.  
  
He woke up to every little’s worst nightmare, Peggy gently shaking his shoulder with a concerned look in her eyes. The clock behind her shoulder, read 3:19 am in bright red numbers. He didn’t need to ask what had happened, the bed was soaked and the sweet smell of his Omega piss had reached his nose. The panic alone caused him to have a panic attack, which triggered an asthma attack.  
  
She had calmed him down enough to pick him up, carrying him on her hip. With one hand, as if she’d done this before, she pulled the sheets from the bed and found the plastic sheet awaiting for them underneath. She cleaned his face up after using his inhaler and even changed the sheets after getting these in the washer that resided in the bathroom.  
  
Steve had fallen back asleep that night with a fresh diaper on and suckling on the Director of SHIELD’s tit.

  
And by next morning, when dawn arose and cast them in a soft, golden hue, Peggy was still there. When any other, sensible person would’ve called him a freak and ran, Peggy didn’t.  
  
“You’re a Little,” Peggy told him over breakfast of coffee for the adult and apple juice in his favorite blue sippy cup. She was ladling his plate full of waffles as if he could eat that many at one time. “And that’s okay, Steven. I suspected it when you would gaze off and look at my breasts. You didn’t look at them the way Agent Hodge would. You wanted to feed, to comfort yourself, Hodge wanted to bury himself in them to get himself off.”  
  
She laughed when Steve made a face at that idea. Her laugh was pretty, it sounded like bells chiming.  
  
But Steve couldn’t be Little right there. He had to talk. He had to be Big. He had to _force_ himself to be Big so they could talk like adults do. It was clearly a struggle to force that side of him away, even temporarily, focusing on lowering the plastic fork into his Bob the Builder plate.  
  
“And you’re not...mad, m-ma’am?” His voice slurred ever so slightly, there was a physical pain in his eyes as he talked. Each word is spoken in a forced, clear tone that was very far from what he wanted to do. “You woke up in my urine. I-I thought I could...hold it. Just for one night.”  
  
“Steven, if I was mad, then you would’ve certainly heard about it by now. But I am not mad, I am…” Her nose wrinkled as she paused in thought, spearing a piece of a waffle on her fork and holding it out to Steve to take a bite. “I am relieved, I suppose, if I must put a name to the feeling. You hide this part of you from a world that doesn’t understand and you have no one to confide in. Now you do, and I won’t tell a soul about it. Besides...we’re _partners.”_  
  
That made Steve laugh, enough so he could relax. A stupid choice of words he’d given on their first meeting together. Where he stumbled over his own words and could barely look at her. Now, now Steve practically lived by Peggy’s side when he was little and when he was not, he was planning for three, up to five missions at one given time.  
  
Steve blinked when there was a soft grunting in front of him. He cocked his head in a confused manner and peered at Clint, the blonde in front of him. Clint looked almost pained as if he was struggling to think. While Steve had daydreamed, the blonde had built a small village consisting of two huts and one large farm. He was holding the horse in his hand, turning it over in his fingertips.  
  
“Can I have that?” Clint asked, pointing to the horse. He was speaking around a purple pacifier in his mouth. “P’ease?”  
  
Steve wordlessly handed it over and Clint grinned from ear to ear, in the same manner, Steve had seen him grin when he was beaten down, dirty and bloody, and saw the rescue helicopter floating towards him.  
  
Clint was proud of himself as he pushed the horse into place, right in front of the red and white farm that he’d built. He gave a grin as he sat back on his haunches, looking up at Steve with a curious look.  
  
That curious look changed into something pain, the large blonde shaking his head over and over again as if he was trying to force out a thought. He grunted and held his hands over his ears. Steve leaned forward, touching Clint’s arm with a confused sound, wanting to help his friend, but not knowing how.  
  
It was Steve’s scream that caught the adults’ attention. A terrified pitched scream that sent chills down the Director’s spine and had her reaching for her weapon by the time she was on her feet. Clint had thrown himself on top of Steve, using his larger body to pin the smaller of the blondes down. His diaper overalls had been half ripped off, one of the latches broken and shreds of his diapers around them. The blonde was beating into Steve’s face, Steve doing his best to try to cover himself.   
  
_“Clinton Francis Barton!”_ Phil snapped, getting to the pair first. He wrapped his arms around Clint’s chest and pulled him away, having to wrap his legs around the man to stop him from wiggling around. He shot a concerned look to Peggy, Clint eventually stopping his shaking. “What in the _hell_ are you doing, Clint? Why did you hit Steve?”  
  
That’s how Clint knew his papa was mad. He never cursed. And now he was cursing because of him. When he didn’t answer, Phil shook his head and pulled the blonde to his feet roughly.  
  
That wasn’t like Clint to stay silent, especially when he knew he was wrong. The boy just looked at Steve in a mixture of shock and pain, opening and closing his own bruised and bloodied fists, like he was surprised to see them in this condition.  
  
Peggy was instantly by Steve’s side, turning the blonde to his side and using a handkerchief to press against a bleeding cut above his brow. She used her free hand to use the end of her blouse to stop his nose from bleeding. All the while whispering soothing words to him. He was sobbing, screaming hysterically as she tried to clean him up.  
  
Coulson all but forced Clint into the corner and knelt down beside Peggy and Steve, giving an all but apologetic look to the woman. He was sorry, really. His Little _never_ acted in this manner. Even now, Clint was staring dead into the corner with wide eyes, trembling. This wasn’t right.  
  
“It’s okay, Stevie,” Phil whispered, taking out the butterfly strips from the first aid kit. He was gentle as he pulled the cut shut above his eye, trying to get it to stop bleeding for now. “It’s okay. Clint was _very_ mean to you. I’ll talk to him when I get home. I’m so sorry he hurt you, baby.”  
  
Peggy pulled Steve into her lap, cradling him against her chest and rocking them. She’d sat down on the floor, wrapping her arms around her little one to try to calm him down. With one hand, she was already pulling her breast out for him to suckle on, feeling his pulse slowly dying down, the odd tearful hiccup escaping him.  
  
“I’m not mad,” She finally told Phil, using one hand to card through Steve’s hair to keep herself calm and ground Steve. “I’m not mad at you or Clinton. I’m...worried because the last thing Clint would do is attack Steve. I suspect he’s acting out given the few dates coming next week. You two are relieved of duty until you think it’s safe to come back, Phil. Use the safe house. Call me if you need anything.” She paused as Steve turned his head to hiccup and ough wetly, Peggy already holding an inhaler to his lips. “And do tell Natasha that you’re leaving. I rather not deal with a scary redhead at three in the morning asking where you took Clint. _Come on, Stevie. There’s a big boy.”_  
  
The door closed behind Phil and Peggy focused on calming the hysterical boy in her lap. It took over half an hour and one sore tit before Steve was _much_ calmer. His face was bruised, the cut above his eye still sluggishly bleeding. His nose looked more bruised than actually broken, a small miracle in given how hard she knew Clint could hit. The sobs gave away into gentle whimpers and Peggy sighed, kissing his temple. She wanted to take him to the medical bay, but they’d best avoid any doctors right now. Steve didn’t need to be sent into hysterics again. She had bruise balm at home and could tape that cut above his eye shut after a nice, long bubble bath.  
  
“Let’s get you home, hm? Mama can finish there. That way she can be with her little boy. You want to tell her what happened?”  
  
Steve’s eyes opened, his left sticky and swollen with blood dribbling from the cut. He opened and closed his mouth several times, each breath that left him was some form of a hiccuped sob. “I-I-I don’t _know.”_ He breathed, shaking his head. “Clint loo-loo-l-looked...hur’. Confused. He swun’ on me. Hur’ me.”  
  
The Brooklyn accent really shined through in his moments of hystericalness and Peggy’s heart broke. She kissed his temple again, whispering promises of a relaxing night at home.  
  
“I know you didn’t, baby. You didn’t do anything. I don’t know what’s going on with Clinton, but I am sure Uncle Phil will take care of it. Let’s go home, hm? Mr. Duckie is calling our names.”  
  
Peggy packed a few classified marked files and her laptop into her messenger bag, swinging it across her chest. Steve was picked up and his diaper and overalls fixed enough to get him home. He would need a change and it was best done at home. She picked Steve up, getting him to suckle on his pacifier. In the hall, she was stopped by Daniel Sousa, a thin man who leaned too heavily on his cane, accounting for the accident he received while serving.  
  
Sousa smiled, in the same manner, he did when he always saw Steve in this same manner, one that seemed too forced like he couldn’t fully understand what was going on. _“Oh, Pegg-Director.”_ He caught himself last minute and shook his head. “Colonel Phillips needs you. There’s a video call waiting on line One. I can...take Steve if need be. Looks like the little guy needs to go to the medical bay anyway. What happened? You lose a fight, kiddo?”  
  
Tears welled up in Steve’s eyes and he started to wiggle against Peggy’s hips, attempting to put himself on the side further from Daniel. She shot Daniel a look that told him the little joke wasn’t appreciated. If he couldn’t see how sensitive Steve was and _knew_ his evasion of the med bay, why even bring it up? She settled Steve down, patting his backside and bouncing him ever so slightly.  
  
“Thank you Daniel, but tell Phillips I am heading home. What he wants to speak to me about can be done over the phone or better yet through email.”  
  
“Ma’am, I’m afraid he insists. It’s about Project Re-” He stopped and looked at Steve, eyes darting between the two of them like they were some puzzle to solve. “Project P, ma’am.”  
  
If Project P meant anything to Peggy, it didn’t show on her stoic face. She simply adjusted Steve to her other side to get him as far away from Daniel as possible. The blonde laid his head on her shoulder, a hand playing with her loose curls.  
  
“Very well,” she sighed, almost annoyed sounding. “Please tell Phillips that I will take his call later tonight _after_ I get Steve settled.” She paused as she walked by, turning to look back at him. “Good night, Daniel. Do not forget to actually turn the timing devices off in the lab tonight. I don’t need to wake up with a call from the mayor telling me half of Manhattan has exploded again.”  
  
****  
  
Phil Coulson pinched the bridge of his nose as he tried to keep the stress from rising from what all had happened today. Of course, he couldn't get too mad at the Omega, the boy had been through hell and with the recent blast from the past happening, he was bound to act out. But this wasn’t just acting out. Acting out for Clint was throwing a tantrum over not being able to have coffee or pizza. This was downright being mean. Cruel. When Clint had seemed to come to, to himself, he looked downright confused as to why his papa was dragging him to the car and why his hands were bloodied and bruised.   
  
Something wasn’t exactly right and none of this settled well on Phil’s chest.  
  
They’d spent the whole walk to the car in silence, Phil gripping the blonde a little too hard. After getting home, he stripped the blonde in the bedroom. Slender with well-defined muscles. There was barely a bruise on him, but he’d never seen Clint look so small before.  
  
“Talk to me,” Phil whispered, cupping the boys’ stubble face. “What happened, little one? I’m not mad. I’m worried.”  
  
Clint shook his head, side to side before pushing past his Papa’s hands and wrapping his arms around Phil’s chest. He sniffled as he held the man tightly, shoulders shaking. Phil made a pained sound in return, picking the little one up and laying him in a bath with him.  
  
The water was warm, but not even watermelon scented bubbles could cheer him up. Clint clung to him, in the same manner, he did when Phil was forced to leave for three weeks while he was on a mission in Quebec. He didn’t get a moment alone, even to pee for four months after that.  
  
Phil used a fluffy towel to dry Clint off, brushing his hair out of his face and gathering what he needed to put him in a diaper. He laid the blonde on his changing mat and held his legs up, laying Pooh on Clint’s chest to distract him.  
  
“No,” the blonde whined when his papa started to spread the pastry diaper rash cream against his bubble cheeks.  
  
“Gotta, Clint. You don’t need another rash. Remember those?”  
  
Clint did. They itched. They hurt. They got even worst when you had to go on a mission and your suit made you sweat and made it get infected. That was awkward to talk to medical about, but thankfully Stark had designed his suit to be more breathable.  
  
He just grunted in reply, thankfully understanding.  
  
After a dash of baby powder, he strapped the diaper on his baby and put him in his dinosaur onesie. Clint loved the dinosaur feet, normally he’d laugh and laugh at it, but today he just stared. He looked so small and defeated.  
  
“Hey, baby.” Phil sat on the bed and pulled Clint against his chest, kissing his temple. “You’d tell daddy if anything happened, right? He can’t help you if he doesn’t know. All he wants to do is help you.”  
  
Those blue eyes turned to stare at Phil for the longest time before they brimmed with tears, the tears causing his long lashes to stick together. His breathing got difficult, like someone was squeezing his chest together. Until he was hiccuping and bursting into tears.  
  
“Sh. Shh, baby doll.”  
  
Picking Clint up, he rested the Omega against his chest and let the Omega scent him, rocking them side to side.  
  
“ _I don’t know, daddy._ I don’t know what happened. I-I-I was...confus’. Really confused n’ it made me angy. Really angy. Really bad. Like - like - like how you get! How you get when I hurt myself cause I mad at myself! And I just...don’t remembe’. I don’t. You were pullin’ me away…”  
  
That...didn’t sound good, not too good but Phil couldn’t tell his baby that. Clint was obviously coming to terms with hurting his friend and he was sorry about it. Instead, he sat Clint up so they were looking into each other’s eyes.  
  
“You didn’t mean to hurt, Stevie. It sounds like you were just stressed. It - it happens, baby. With your PTSD. When we’re back home, you can go to Stevie and apologize, okay?” When Clint nodded, Coulson kissed him. A soft peck on his lips, holding his head gently. “Good. Now, let’s get packed for our vacation up to the mountains. You can show me your new arrows!”  
  
A beautiful, dark wooden cabin awaited them on the side of a mountain. Hidden behind a large, thick forest of ample green, flushed trees. The cabin offered a beautiful sanctuary with a wrap-around porch, a sunroom holding plants and a swing set that would provide comfort on rainy days. Large, glass windows offered the view of the forest around them.  
  
And knowing Howard Stark, the best technology not-known to man to protect them.  
  
The sun was just setting, painting the sky in dues of orange, pink, and reds as Lola settled in the grass, her top pulling up just as the pair exited the car.  
  
It was midnight when Clint finally dozed off against his daddy’s chest, a bottle filled with warm milk half hanging out of his mouth. Phil was dozing off himself in front of the warm fire when his phone buzzed on the arm of the couch.  
  
He breathed out a soft sigh and rubbed over his face, opening up Peggy’s text. The words across the screen made him pull Clint closer to his chest, his blood running cold. __  
__  
Phillips called. Project P is a go. Be on the lookout. They’re coming. PC


End file.
